baby smell

I want to be able to bottle it up. The sweet baby-ness of Zane. I want to pull out something to remind me how precious and sweet my son's little infant hair and soft baby skin is against my cheek. I want something to bottle the smell of freshly washed baby skin mixed with baby lavender lotion so that I can pull it out to remember. I want to be able to record the sound of his giggle, rumbling up from his chubby little belly, as I tickle his skin. I want to remember how he looks at me, searching me out, finding me across the room when he hears my voice, his eyes shining with that look of adoration. I want something to compare to his small, pudgy little baby legs and arms moving up and down, as if he was marching to a drumbeat. So much action in such a small body.
It makes me so so sad to know I'll forget all this. Oh, I know, I'll have small recollections of how it was and how he felt and how he looked at me, but the truth of it is that I just need to soak it in now, as days are but precious fleeting moments of time. I don't remember near as much as I wish I did with Lynn. She too was a sweet precious babe of mine, now so grown up in her sixth year of life.
Thank you, God, for these moments in time. Help me to make memories that you'll bless me with later on when my babies are all grown.